


The Violin

by Heylir



Category: Widdershins (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 09:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18179027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heylir/pseuds/Heylir
Summary: What happened with Voss after the finale ofGreen-Eyed Monster?Spoilers forGreen-Eyed Monsterand a part ofCurtain Call.





	The Violin

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Скрипка](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13975107) by [Heylir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heylir/pseuds/Heylir). 



> This translation was made by the author. I'd be grateful to be informed about typos and mistakes found, in order to fix them.
> 
> The beginning is a retold scene from _Green-Eyed Monster_ ; passages in italics are (non-canon) fragments of Wolfe and Voss's conversation from the finale of it. They appear not in the chronological order, but rather by their relevance to present events.

    Shearing pain throbbed in his head, as it was a jaw that that half a dozen wisdom teeth had been pulled from. But instead of teeth-holes, there were gaps from missing skills and talents: five or six languages, about ten musical instruments, even that talent of florist he had stolen, being drunk. It was all gone.  
     _Why does it hurt so much, damn it, it was painless when I took them away..._  
    But the most important was the other void, from someone's presence that felt as unobtrusive and natural at first and just then became hostile. Overwhelming. Deadly.  
    What had he done while Envy was using his mind as its own?  
    Voss raised his heavy head and looked over the bushes and the lane, at the lighted mansion he had bought. Safe and sound.  
    He could see with only one eye, like all those three years. Voss closed his right eye with his hand, and darkness came. One more loss. Well, that price wasn't too high.  
    Memories were coming back with difficulty. Now he makes a blow into Wolfe's jaw, now he points his gun at Wolfe and the Barber girl... then, sometime before, he tells Wolfe not to come... then, three years ago he frames Wolfe, and he isn't angry or wounded, only astonished with that deed of his “friend”.  
    It was the beginning of everything. It was the moment when Envy bought him entirely, not in the Nepal cave. It was there he started down his path that ended here.  
    “Dominik?” as through a fog, he heard a worried voice. Who could care about him now?  
    “Wolfe!” It was him indeed. With his left cheek turning blue, but he still was placidly contented. “I'm so sorry..! What have I done..?”  
    Wolfe gave him a hand and helped to stand up, propping him to be safe.  
    “You had made a poor choice, my friend. But I am quite sure Envy would have found someone else, if not you.”  
    Voss knew that Wolfe said the truth. However strange it was to hear the truth of that kind from him.  
    “But...” Voss stopped. There were many things Wolfe didn't know or didn't understand, and it was for the better. “I guess I'll have time to think about it in jail. Or on the way to the gallows...”  
    “Gallows?” asked Wolfe, shocked. “They wouldn't..!”  
    “It's more than I deserve,” Voss replied grimly. “I'll go quietly, but there's things you should know, first. Things that Envy told me... about Widdershins, and about your Captain's family.”

    Beyond bushes two loud voices yelled each at other, one with London pronunciation, other with a thick Irish accent:  
    “So... the other day, when I was trying to teach you summoning, you really weren't trying at all!”  
    “Or ye're a really rubbish teacher!”  
    “It's not a teacher but a shepherd you need!”  
    “And ye ain't good fer both!”  
    “Over there!” announced Florrie unnecessarily, pointing in the direction of the bushes. Captain Barber resolutely pushed herself through the hedge, “You two! Where's Voss?!”  
    “Wolfe's got 'im,” absorbed in their arguing, Mal pointed behind his back.  
    “Ah, well...” there was the voice of Wolfe coming from there, “I... turned my head for just a moment... he must have escaped. _Verzeihung..!_ ”  
    Mal expressively rolled his eyes and blew out smoke in the starry sky.  
    “Is that so,” Nicola folded her arms and put her nightstick on display as if unwittingly.  
    “Entirely my fault, I can only apologise,” Wolfe smiled weakly.  
    “Oh, you'll do more than that!” she seized Wolfe by the collar and pulled him to herself. “You have some explaining to do!”  
    Mal and Ben reacted together and at once, with indignant “Oi!” and “Now wait just a moment...”  
    “Actually, I do!” assured Wolfe. “Before Voss... escaped, he told me some information that I must give to you! Though perhaps the rest of your family should hear it also...”  
    Florrie touched her sister's shoulder, and she reluctantly let Wolfe go.

    Far from them, in bushes, Voss, who had been trying to see and hear at least something, let his breath out at last and made his way to the forest under the vegetation cover. He was leaving behind his former house, his stolen money, his enemies... and the only man who called him a friend.

*        *        *

    Days were dragging, day after day, and merging in the one dull, greyish mass. And yet Voss didn't feel unhappy. He just couldn't, like a man who came down from the scaffold alive couldn't.

 _“If I die tomorrow, I'll die free. And happy, as much as I can.”_  
_“You say about death again, my friend,” Wolfe frowned. “Why?”_  
_“The court will be less lenient than you. And Captain Barber won't leave me in peace.”_  
_“You don't have to wait for Captain Barber,” Wolfe replied simply._  
_Voss thought he had misheard. He looked at Wolfe silently, trying to understand him and realise what he really meant._  
_“There are very free woods behind you,” he smiled. “And no guards.”_  
_“She will kill you,” Voss said the thought came to him first._  
_“We three will fight off her, somehow,” Wolfe grinned a little. “Don't think about that, Dominik.”_  
_Voss tried to think about Wolfe's words, however fantastic they sounded. To live, no matter how... in poverty, on the run, alone, but live free... now, after the poisonous green veil had fallen from his eyes, it seemed unthinkable happiness to him, unattainable and undeserved._  
_“But isn't it…” “impossible”, he wanted to ask, but instead of that he blurted out something unwanted and silly, “...too easy?”_

    What seemed unthinkable happiness to him at that night now came true. Voss didn't feel happy but didn't feel unhappy, too. It was the most like recovery after a serious illness when there is neither a threat to life, nor sufferings, nor fever, only weariness and weakness that blunts all sensations. But you're slowly getting back the ability to enjoy the most common things: a taste of food, lack of pain, a sound sleep.  
    Voss forgot already how it felt to sleep in peace, without persistent shouting into his ears. At the night of his escape, he visited the flat he had rented before getting the mansion, took away from there all reserved money and once bought jewels of his, changed his clothes and went to this second-rate hotel. He took a room, fell into a bed and slept for an almost full day, in dull and troubled sleep. When he awoke, all past things came away into the shade, got dim and bleak. As well as the present and the near future did.  
    He realised the risk to meet unwanted guests as he visited his old flat. But the prospect of living without money and any way of getting them was more frightening. They feed prisoners in the jail, at least.  
    But all had gone well. The money would be enough for a time. After that, he could move the jewellery, on the black market, of course, not in the honest pawnshop. Luckily for him, they were expensive — almost all of them.  
    At that time he liked spending money on luxuries, and Envy encouraged this ambition by all means. Only once he bought an inexpensive, even not silver, tie-pin, just because he fancied it. Envy laughed at his bad taste and weakness for cheap stuff, and he, in a fit of obstinacy that at times overtook him, claimed that he would wear what he wanted and didn't care a damn for the opinion of others. Envy's yelling almost broke the windows of the hotel. Either then or now, Voss didn't understand why it got so angry. Much surprised, he even couldn't be afraid. But Envy softened and began to persuade him, to assure that it had only his best interests at heart and he had to learn how to make the right impression on people if he wanted they would envy him. Who would envy junk jewellery? Voss let to convince himself and put the tie-pin away. He hadn't the heart to throw it out.  
    Several months later, he stole the gift for drawing from somebody, and it went with an artistic taste. Then he realised that the tie-pin was as tasteless as all other stuff he bought.  
    But they cost money, and now it was the most important. For the time being Voss had enough cash to pay for the room and meals in the hotel, though. Besides, on the first day, he found a used German-English phrasebook on a street market and bought a city map, just in case. His skill of finding and memorising the way had been lost among others.  
    Also, he bought newspapers every day, morning and evening ones. Lying in bed, he closely examined headlines and pictures. For some reason, he thought that would be enough. If what he was expecting and dreading happened.  
    He remembered the large article about summoned Pride on the front of the newspaper that he had found in the archives among other information about the Barbers. But there was the parade of Princess Victoria, almost blown-up, and it made the incident more interesting.  
    From time to time Voss tried to make out texts in English, by means of guessing, the phrasebook and his memories. He remembered neither meanings of words nor rules of grammar because all of that was a part of a stolen and lost skill. But now and then he recalled fragments of talks in English, phrases he had read in newspapers, single words that he had forgotten but kept the memory of the former knowledge.  
    This strange ambivalence made Voss feel like he was going mad, and he stopped the useless attempts. But he knew what was happening to him at least, knew why. And the people he had stolen languages from, what had they been feeling? Without understanding what had happened to them, why and for what.  
    Voss pushed these senseless questions out of his head, along with his plans for the future. Later, afterwards, when all this ends. But if it ends well, newspapers can tell nothing about that... Let some time pass, he'll write to Wolfe and ask him. And if it doesn't... at that point his thoughts stopped, and he lay on the bed, with his half-empty head, and aimlessly looked into the ceiling. He hardly went outside, avoiding unwanted contacts. Days were dragging one after another.

*        *        *

    He woke up with the angry shouting sounded in his ears, “Here's your damn offering, _Ira_!” This voice was both his own and strange, and his knuckles hurt from his blow into Wolfe's face. It was the first time he had a dream about the past and so vivid one. Heavily breathing, Voss got up and slowly washed over a basin until his sticky sweat had been wiped away. But he still felt hotness on his skin and slimy filthiness inside him. There wasn't enough breath in his small room; he wanted to get some air outside.  
    But even outside he didn't feel better, he felt different. Something was wrong, though Voss couldn't tell what it was. In fearful anxiety, he walked slowly as if he was listening to what went on around.  
    “Hey, you lagging gaper! Didn't buy the road!” the sharp yell pierced his ears, and a thrown stone hardly missed his head. He turned back — a boy made a vulgar gesture to him and escaped around the corner.  
    Voss stopped and looked around. Right in front of him, a black-haired guy openly tried to get into a wench's pants, and she giggled shamelessly. This idyll was broken by other girl running up to them and clutching luckier one by the hair. The girls started fighting, and the guy apparently enjoyed watching it.  
    “Stop thief!” some woman shouted, waving in the direction of a fleeing man desperately. Voss turned his head and saw a policeman who paid all his attention to fish and chips in a paper bag and ignored his surroundings.  
    He went faster, trying to get out of here as quickly as possible. What's going on? It's not a slum... of course, people are the same everywhere, but a pretence of decency, at least? As if something came over everyone, they are like possessed...  
    Voss stopped so abruptly that a passer-by bumped into him from behind and burst into a storm of profanities. But he didn't move, struck with sudden understanding.  
    Is it THAT? Is it what the kingdom of Sins looks like? No hurricanes, bolts of lightning or earthquakes, just... people are getting worse than they were?  
    For a moment Voss felt relieved. No more waiting, and it turned out to be not so dreadful. Just... now people are taken over by the worst of them, not restrained by fear or shame anymore? Envy, lust, wrath, laziness?  
    Voss flinched. No, it couldn't be that everyone... There are other people... people like... like Wolfe.

 _“Thanks, you have been of great help to us. Now, and... before.”_  
_Voss shook his head and, at last, asked the question he hadn't dared to ask so far:_  
_“Why didn't the mansion explode?”_  
_“Mal and Ben put out the fuse in time. Then they desummoned Wrath. Envy's plans didn't work.”_  
_“But she is free now.”_  
_“We'll take care of that. Worry not, my friend.”_

    “We'll take care of that”... And what if... what if Wolfe doesn't know about what happened yet? Hardly... his friends, a wizard and a "most important human", must feel it. But what if?  
    Then... one should tell him, right? Voss remembered Wolfe's address, and he had his city map, with his phrasebook and notebook, in his jacket pocket as he had never left the hotel without them.  
    Checking the map, he found the shortest way and made for Wolfe's house. Now he had a clear purpose, and he felt better again.  
    Even if in fact he went to Wolfe to hear his “Worry not” again. To believe that all would go well and there was nothing to be afraid of or feel...

    He felt something like that when he came to Wolfe's house the first time. He convinced himself that he just wanted to talk and tried to “win” once more before... Even in his thoughts, he couldn't call IT by its true name: a dreadful, abominable line to cross and change his life forever.  
    Voss might not have understood that earlier, but when he was looking at Wolfe's friends, laying knocked-out on the floor, and was waiting for Envy's order, in fear that it would tell him to kill them, — he realised he wasn't able to do it. He felt nothing but indifference and envious hostility to them, but the idea of killing them, with his own hands... that idea made something turn over in his stomach, and he began to shake.  
    Envy ordered not to kill them, only to get them out of the way, but Voss couldn't turn a blind eye to what would happen that night. Dozens of dead people... including Wolfe.  
    He didn't know why he was going to Wolfe, how someone can help there, what he could say.  
    But for some reason, he felt that Wolfe is the only person in the world who would help him, even if he couldn't ask for help. His only hope for... he didn't know what.

    And now Voss was going to Wolfe for support again... and what if it was so? If he really did not know yet that the seventh, the last Deadly Sin had got free, — Voss would give the important information to him. Though, more likely, there would be nobody in that house, if they realised what happened and went away. Or maybe, they even hadn't returned there after that night.  
    But Voss still hoped against all hope. All the way to Wolfe's house, he hoped that he would be at home... till he got to see that house.  
    And then he stopped hoping.

    The house was burnt, blackened, with its windows broken. A fire went out already, but there was still people crowding around here.  
    Voss rushed to a fat woman, who looked as if watching the burnt house was the most important thing for her to do.  
    “What... happened... here?” he asked her, in English.  
    She got excited, her eyes flashed, and she began to explain, in such a rapid patter that even a native Englishman hardly could get half of that. Luckily for Voss, she seemed to like listening to a sound of her voice and repeated most striking places time after time. At last, he made out the words “fire” and “spirit”.  
    “Here was... fire-spirit? Spirit of fire?” he broke in.  
    The fat woman nodded quickly and rattled on again, gesturing wildly. She pointed at the sky and spread her arms as wide as possible to show the size of the flying spirit, apparently.  
     “Thank you,” Voss said reflexively.

     A spirit of fire... the seventh, the last Sin. Wrath. It was its heat Voss had felt then, inside its circle, and last night, in his dream.  
    “Mal and Ben desummoned Wrath”... and now, when Envy had freed it yet, its first thing to do was taking revenge.  
    Feeling heavy pounding of his heart, Voss looked around and saw a policeman, who supported a wall of the house next door zealously.  
    Usually, he avoided even short contacts with the police, but now he didn't care a damn.  
    “Do you speak German, constable?” Voss asked.  
    “No,” he yawned.  
    What Voss wouldn't give for the English language now! Even stealing... he broke off the thought. There was enough of easy ways for the time.  
    “What happened here?” he asked again.  
    “A fire,” the policeman replied languidly.  
    Voss clenched his teeth as he was overcome by wishing to punch the guardian of order in the mug, but he was able to restrain himself. It wouldn't help.  
    He got his notebook and pencil from his pocket and opened it at a clean sheet. Several weeks ago portraits that he could draw would have been snatched by the police right out of his hands, for “wanted” posters. But now he had to be content with pictures in _Punkt, Punkt, Komma, Strich_ -style. Voss sketched three figures in a row, each of different height. He gave the shortest one glasses and the middle one — a batling nest instead of the hair.  
    He showed the result to the constable and pointed to the burnt house.  
    “They... lived... there. They still live?.. alive?” he corrected himself.  
    “Yes,” the policeman nodded several times. “ _Ja._ They... ran away,” he showed the process of running with his fingers, pointed to the window on the first floor and moved the finger downward. Then he took the notebook and pencil out of Voss's hands, drew a schematic picture of a grave in the form of a hill with a cross and cross it out. “ _Nicht._ ”  
    “Thank you, constable.”

    A wave of relief made Voss dizzy for a moment. They were alive, not hurt. Did it mean that Wrath isn't as dangerous as it seems? Or he wasn't so bent on revenge and got distracted by something else.  
    But what was going to happen now, with them going away — to fight Sins, no doubt? What would Wrath do with them, at the next time? What would it do with Wolfe?  
    A blind fury overwhelmed Voss. He hated Wrath that fed on human blood, hated its summoner Envy that cared about nothing except its fun... but the most intense and terrible hatred, with red mist before his eyes and head-splitting pain, was aroused in him against one taker of easy ways who had brought that green pest on his own shoulders to Widdershins!..  
    He might have been suffocated by that hatred if his body hadn't had more good sense than his head. His hand tugged at his collar to let some air in, by its own will, — and made the top button flew off. Voss took several deep shuddering breaths. He recalled a time-proven method: when angry, count to ten. To one hundred, to one thousand... how much it takes.  
    Voss made a step away from the burnt house. _One._ Breath in. Another step. _Two._ Breath out. A step. _Three._ Breath in.  
    He was not looking where he was going; he is focusing his mind on counting, breathing and moving his legs. Fury still simmered inside him, but he felt like it was beyond an invisible guard wall. Even if that wall could break at any moment.  
     _Five hundred and twenty-seven..._ Breath in. _Five hundred and twenty-eight..._ Breath out.  
    Out of the corner of his eye, Voss saw a dazzling light from the water in morning sun and turned around. There was a fountain playing nearby. It seemed he had walked into some park.  
    Keeping count of his steps, Voss reached the fountain and put his head into the water, by instinct. It was so cold in March that at once made his breath catch and his teeth rattle. Voss endured for a moment, pulled out his head and took his handkerchief from his pocket. Water dripped from his hair on the coat, and he took off it to keep it dry.  
    Voss wiped his wet face, coming to his senses and trying to realise what had happened. Had he been affected with Wrath's power? Could Sins influence people so strongly? Overwhelming all other feelings, not letting think straight and act sensibly? But he was all right till... Till his own anger fed Wrath's power.

 _“I told Envy I didn't want to do it. Just couldn't. And it replied that... after all the things I had done already... it's too late for me to grow a conscience. And I... believed that. Believed that there was no going back for me anymore. I was so...” Voss didn't finish._  
_“The Deadlies are trying to cut off us from anything good in the world: hope, joy, friendship,” Wolfe said gently. “They want us to be powerless against them.”_

    “They are trying to cut off us from anything good...” Voss rubbed his face, feeling a pleasant coolness on his skin.  
    It means... it means that he shouldn't give in to anger, either with Sins or himself. It just makes Wrath stronger. And what's the point in feeling angry with Sins? They aren't people, but the other way round. People caused them to be. It seemed so, Voss didn't know for sure. But if not for envious men, there wouldn't be Envy, too?  
    As for himself... there would be time for anger with himself, later. Now was the time to restrain himself. And not to give in to Sins, any of them.  
    After a while Voss calmed down, Wrath's fever was gone completely. He sat by the fountain, thought about nothing, and a cold wind sprinkled water on his face.  
    And amidst this silence, there was some feeling, not within Voss, but coming to him from outside. It felt like it pressed on his chest, trying to get into his heart, and pulled him to itself at the same time.  
    As far back as two weeks ago, Voss wouldn't probably recognise it, not because it was strange to him, on the contrary, it was too familiar, so common that one couldn't make it out. It was an inseparable part of him.

 _“I know you didn't want me dead.”_  
_“I didn't. I only wanted to get what you had. And most of all, I wanted to make you envy me, as strongly as I envied you.”_  
_“But why, Dominik?” There was only sad perplexity in Wolfe's voice. “Why should we envy each other? We can be glad for us and others... equally, can't we?”_  
_Voss would laugh at that if he were able to._  
_“You can't understand,” he sighed bitterly._ That is your happiness... _Maybe, this happiness was the only thing he should have stolen, and it would have been enough? But Voss suspected that you can't steal things like those, least of all with the power of Envy._  
_Wolfe just spread out his hands:_  
_“Probably I can't. You know, I like my violin. I like playing it and making others happy. But... if this were possible and I knew that helps you, I would... give my skill to you,” he ended, a bit embarrassed._  
_Voss wasn't surprised._  
_“You would, I know.” He shook his head. “Only I don't want others' talents any more, stolen or given freely. They can't change anything inside you.”_  
_“But are you still envious of me?” Wolfe asked kindly. The way as if he asked whether his head still hurt._  
_Voss looked up at him. And several days ago, Wolfe's very existence poisoned his life, spoiled the pleasure of what he... what he had made a deal with Envy for._  
_“No,” said Voss. “Now it seems to me that I'll never be able to feel envy again.”_

    He neither boasted nor tried to seem better than he was as he was saying that. It was too fresh in his memory how he had felt Envy inside him. An intolerable, soul-wrangling longing to seize, grab everything around you, take all the world in your possession; and unquenchable spite at this world for having someone else who is better, richer, happier than you... And no ray of light, no bit of joy, no iota of sympathy for others, only that ever-hungry darkness.  
    Yes, Voss used to envy, and envy poisoned his seemingly happiest moments, but THAT was disgusting, terrible, insufferable... even death wasn't so dreadful. But still, it was the same feeling of envy.  
    And now it was that again, Voss couldn't be mistaken. Strong, powerful, it tugged at heart-strings, called to itself... and aroused only disgust and fear in him. But Envy couldn't take his mind again, after the link between them had been broken, could it?  
    Then why did he hear its calling, from far? Why did he know where that came from? Because it was him who had summoned it once, or..?  
    No. Voss stood up resolutely. He wouldn't be caught up in this snare again, wouldn't let himself be deceived. He would go anywhere but not there. Though he had to... check first.

    As he came out on the town square, Voss felt that “the calling” getting stronger and realised it was going from the Royal Theatre. So he would make his way in the opposite direction. He turned to the right, passed several houses and decided to check the map. He reached to the pocket of his coat... and realised that it had been left near the fountain. But it was senseless to come back, surely someone took it already. Especially now.  
    He had to walk at random. After passing a couple of houses more, he heard a noise. It seemed to be an uproar of a crowd, big and unhappy with something. Voss stopped. Whatever was happening there, he was safer here. And even safer he would be in the hotel or outside of Widdershins at all. But why had he remained here? To be sure that it would be all right? It didn't. And what did he do now, hide and wait for the end? But if... if that would never end?  
    At last Voss went to the noise, though slowly and warily, — and he found himself beside the building of the city gaol. The rebellious crowd was trying to storm the gate, and an authoritative subduing voice from magophones hadn't any effect on them. The very air appeared to be heavy with Wrath here.  
    Voss hid around the corner and watched from a distance. From occasional loud cries and words “kill them” and “bastards” that reached to him, he got what the stormers wanted. To execute prisoners, with their own hands. If they could break into the gaol, it wouldn't matter whether the police would overcome them or not, — Wrath would eat its fill in any case. Only strength of the locked gate stood between all of them and an approaching slaughter. And Voss himself could have been there, beyond this gate, if not for... If not for someone.  
    He felt smouldering anger. What did these law-abiding citizens, these holier-than-thou birds know about those who were beyond bars now? Did they think they had the right to judge other, not so lucky people? Did they feel superior, better, more worthy? And going to kill “bad ones”?  
    His hatred burst into a flame before Voss knew what was going on. He tried to put out or weaken it at least, but all wasn't good. He kept telling himself that these people fell under Wrath's influence, it was why they were acting this way, they wouldn't do it by their own will... but that didn't help. Not because his righteous anger was too strong, but because it was _pleasurable_. It didn't push him to stop the crowd that would have been a suicide; it just made him feel better than everyone else, helped him forget his worthlessness.  
    Voss understood that he was feeding Wrath now, playing into the enemy's hands, bringing closer the moment when the gaol's gate came tumbling down under the mass of human bodies and the blood flooded the pavement... but he couldn't help it. This hatred was appealing like a naked body or sumptuous dinner, and the temptation was stronger than him. Voss stood, leaning on the stone wall, clenching his fists, letting the waves of anger pass through him freely.  
    That was when violin music came from the magophone.

    Even in that short time of his having the talent stolen from the master violinist, Voss couldn't have distinguished the particular violin by its sound — and more, it wasn't _that_ violin. So now it was neither the instrument nor the manner of playing he recognised, but his feeling that the music caused. It felt like iron bands had been laid round his heart burst now, one after another.

    When Voss sat with Wolfe in the pub, lost in his thoughts about the approaching evening, he almost forgot his wish to win. Then two local violinists started to grate on patrons' ears, — and Voss decided to try once more. If Wolfe didn't envy money and position in society, then maybe he would envy _this_?  
    Voss performed a most sophisticated passage and invited Wolfe to beat that, with a secret irony, — but there was an only sincere delight in his eyes. “Oh, I don't believe I could!” he replied. “But a duet could be interesting!”  
    Still, Voss didn't give up, showing the stolen talent to the fullest, shining with a masterly technique, enjoying his feeling of superiority and the local violinists' envy. His deal with Envy was worth it, really that was! Wolfe's play could only make the real virtuoso's triumph more obvious, but he didn't seem embarrassed with his role of "second fiddle" at all.  
    Then Voss changed his tactic and suggested that Wolfe make his choice next.  
    He started to play a merry dancing tune, a simple one and much more appropriate there. It stirred up the audience. Two men, involved in a talk on business matters, turned their heads around and smiled. A girl who just sat down at a table leapt to her feet, pulled her friend after her and started to dance around. Their joy came down on Voss, caught him in its torrents and made him forget anything: what would happen in the evening, his wish to win, his fears, malice and envy... He tucked the violin under his chin and entered into the duet, not trying to outdo Wolfe anymore. Now Voss's bow was moved by a different, unknown before feeling, born from the music and joy that it brought to people. Whoever you are, whatever you've done, you can be happy, you can, you can!  
    But though forgotten for a time, Voss's dismay didn't go away but leaked into the violin strings through his fingers. His performance didn't have the calm serenity of Wolfe's one; he played _agitato_ , with more abrupt strokes, making soft smoothness of the other violin deeper and more emphasised, reminding how fleeting these happy moments would be.  
    And when they passed away and Voss came back to earth, there was a change remained inside him. It made his mind and eyesight more clear, and, for the first time, he fully realised what would happen in the evening. What he had agreed to do and why. And looking into Wolfe's eyes, with joy still beamed in them, Voss said resolutely, “No. Don't come”.

    The music came down from the magophone like cool rain on hot stones. Smiles spread across embittered faces, angrily clenched fists were opened, cobblestones dropped from raised hands. Companions turned to each other, forgetting about everything else. With the spell broken, people came back to themselves, and Voss feel sympathy for them. It was all Wrath's fault, nobody else's.  
    And the violin went on, telling about how wonderful and priceless life is, how senseless strife, about the happiness of love and joy of forgiveness...

 _Voss wasn't able to see Wolfe's expression in the twilight, but his voice was unusually gloomy._  
_“Dominik, your feeling of guilt almost destroyed dozens of people. Don't let it destroy you! You'll only make Envy pleased with that. Fight for yourself, do you hear me?!”_  
_Voss did, but he had neither strength nor wish to fight. Let them come, arrest him, hang him... It will be simpler and easier this way._  
_Wolfe turned his head, listening intently._  
_“They are coming. Run away before it's too late! Now!!”_  
_Voss jumped to his feet as if these words spurred him._  
_“Wolfe...”_  
_He shook his head impatiently, “No time, Dominik, run!”_

    Nearby came a loud crash, as if a cannonball flew into a wall of the gaol. There were brick fragments hurtling and loud cries arising. And then silence fell, and the violin was heard no more.  
    But before Voss could take it in, the music returned. Playing was soft and uncertain; the bow shook and made the strings rattle a little, — but it did play!  
    With each note, the sound grew stronger and clearer, and Voss, with bated breath, had only one thought in his mind: _don’t let it stop again, please, don't..._  
    Several centuries, or unbearably long seconds, passed before the air was astir with a mute clap. Instantly, the tension was gone, a pressing weight lifted off, a breath of fresh wind came. The people gathered around the gate looked to each other in a confused way, not understanding why they were here or what for. And over their heads, the violin song flew up, ending in a trilling victorious chord.  
    Voss wiped the sweat from his forehead, let his breath out and fell back against the wall, flat-out. So there it is. This is what Sins want from people. And this is how one fights them.  
    He heard Envy's “call” again — was it because Wrath's influence didn't drown it anymore? Or was Envy getting stronger, too? With its funny stuff like blowing up people in houses...  
    But what could he do? He was neither a “most important human” nor a wizard nor... a man like Wolfe. Just the man who summoned Envy into the human world and got it to Widdershins. He always had been dreaming of doing something of note, distinguishing himself, somehow. Now, who was to blame for his dream came true _this way_?  
    “Fight, Dominik...”  
    He turned about and went towards Envy's call. In time to his steps, a voice of the violin sounded in his ears. Neither the triumphant one nor the serene and happy, but the faint, faltering, and still going on in spite of everything.

 _“Isn't it too easy?” asked Voss._  
_Wolfe not at once replied, and when he did, his tone might seem too light-hearted._  
_“Just give it a try. Try to be a better person. To make something good out of your life. To fix the mistakes you made. And then you'll tell me if it's so easy.”_

    “Not easy at all”, Voss admitted to himself. “But I still want to try”.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Days were dragging, day after day..._ — as I reckon, there are ten days between the end of _Green-Eyed Monster_ and “the long day” of _Curtain Call_.
> 
>  _It felt like iron bands had been laid round his heart burst now, one after another._ — The image is taken from the fairy-tale _The Frog Prince_. Voss could read _Grimms' Fairy Tales_ , first published in 1812, or he could just hear the tale as a child.
> 
>  _“Isn't it too easy?” “Just give it a try. ... And then you'll tell me if it's so easy.”_ — Strange as it is, this exchange had been thought up **before** the page with Voss's reply at Envy's offer was posted. (Though after Voss's return in _Curtain Call_.) The last line of the fanfic “foreshadows” those words of his.


End file.
